


holy water

by chainedgoddess



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: BDSM, Consensual Kink, Dom Bellamy Blake, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, F/M, Light BDSM, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Spit Kink, Sub Clarke Griffin, spitting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-20
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-16 04:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,590
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29570571
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chainedgoddess/pseuds/chainedgoddess
Summary: Clarke thinks having someone spit into her mouth is disgusting (because it is and she knows she's right about it).But she still lets Bellamy do it, if only so that he'll give her what she needs in return.•\•Seriously, that's the whole plot.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 16
Kudos: 84





	holy water

**Author's Note:**

> I thought about including a spitting scene in venus in chains but then I decided to make it its own modern oneshot.
> 
> It's gross. It's porn. If you read the description and still clicked I think we're all on an even playing field of fucked up 🖤

Clarke is mid-moan, fingers anxiously rubbing at her clit when she sees it.

“Oh, ew. That’s gross.”

Bellamy’s head pops around the doorframe leading to their bathroom. He’d been shaving, though unlike her he’s fully dressed.

She on the other hand isn’t allowed to wear clothing in their house unless they have guests over.

“What is it?”

“Nothing, sorry,” she says, though she sets her phone screen down on the bed covers. He’d ordered her to spend the morning edging, and up until now she’d been dutifully doing so. Though she’s removed her fingers momentarily, she can still feel her clit pulsing, begging for the slightest touch.

“It wasn’t nothing. Why did you stop?” He walks over to the bed, eyes trying to gage the severity of whatever’s happened.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to stop. I just saw something disgusting in the video I was watching.”

“Mm, what was it, baby?” He asks, running a finger over the curve of her tit.

“He, um…” The touch distracts her. She’s so unbelievably horny after her morning edges. “He spit in her mouth. It was gross.”

“Was it? Hm, that doesn’t sound gross to me. He gave her a gift.”

She frowns. “But it was spit.”

“So? He wanted her to have it. I think that’s nice, don’t you?”

“Maybe the… sentiment? But it’s not—”

“Don’t you like kissing me, princess?”

“Of course I do.”

He thumbs at her hard nipple, and she swallows heavily.

“That’s spit too. But that doesn’t bother you.”

“Yeah, but kissing’s—” She hisses when he twists the nipple abruptly. “—kissing’s not demeaning.”

“But you like when I’m demeaning. When I tell you what to do and use you for my pleasure. Right?”

“Yes, sir,” she whines as his hand snakes down towards her cunt. He lets his finger rest on her clit but refuses to move it. When she tries to jerk her hips against it to feel something, _anything,_ he gives her a scolding look.

“None of that, bad girl. Stay still. How many times did you edge today?”

“Two edges, sir. I was… I was working on the third.”

“How many times did I make you edge each day this week?”

“Six times each day.”

“So how long’s it been since you’ve come, baby? Hm?”

“Seven days since my last orgasm. And… _fuck,_ and thirty-eight edges.”

“And you still owe me four more for the rest of today, right?” She nods, biting down on her lip to contain a groan. “So I’ll make you a deal. We’ll do two edges right now and then I’ll let you have your orgasm early. But only if I can spit in your mouth first.”

“But _sir—”_

“Shh, princess. What’s your color?”

She clenches her jaw, embarrassed by the answer. “Green, sir.”

“So you aren’t safewording? This isn’t a limit?”

“No. I just don’t like it.”

“That’s okay, baby. You don’t have to like it. You just have to be a good girl and do what I say, right? It makes you feel good to be ordered around. You like being degraded, and if I always only did things you love, you wouldn’t ever feel degraded, huh? So by spitting in your mouth, I’m actually helping you, don’t you think?”

He runs his finger in a slow circle around her clit before dipping down to feel her dripping cunt.

“I hadn’t, um… hadn’t thought of it that way.”

“Of course not, sweetheart, that’s why I’m here.” He draws her body against his chest so he can pet at her properly. With his free hand, he tips her chin up towards him. “Now open your mouth, huh princess? One little bit of spit and I’ll give you your edge.”

Reluctantly, she parts her lips, watching him warily as he leans in close before sending a shot of his spit onto her tongue.

She cringes back on instinct, but he just smiles, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “That wasn’t so bad, right?” 

She wants to respond, wants to say it was disgusting, but then his fingers finally start working her over in earnest.

And she’s so horny — so, so unbelievably horny after spending the first part of the day naked in their bed, touching herself until she’s as close as can be to an orgasm before letting it disappear. It’s too much — powerful and terrible and all-consuming. There’s no way to think through that, no way to remain rational.

So instead she closes her mouth around his spit and bucks against him as he plays with her.

It only takes a few moments of rubbing — his fingers aren’t even _inside her_ for christ’s sake — before she’s dangerously close to disobedience.

“Stop!” She gasps out. “I’m gonna—”

He rips his hand away, and the build — the crest and the ache and the longing — fade into something that makes her want to cry.

This used to happen to her on rare occasions in the days before Bellamy, but only because she’d forget to charge her shitty amazon vibrator and it seemed to enjoy purposefully dying right when she needed it most.

Now, she does this multiple times a day, sometimes with his fingers, sometimes with her own, and it’s so much worse. There’s a smouldering burn that never goes away, and even when she finally earns her orgasm it isn’t enough. She needs _more,_ craves more from him all the time.

She lets out pitiful little whimpers in the aftermath, her body still trying to find its missing pleasure as his wet hand skates over her stomach.

“Very good, baby. One edge down, one to go.”

“It’s too much.”

“Is it?” He asks, eyebrows raised like he’s waiting for something. 

Something she won’t give. She won’t say her safeword over this. Not because it would be wrong to do so, but because the injustice fulfills something in her that she can’t understand. It’s awful — every lost orgasm, every stolen bit of pleasure that he laughs off is painful.

But it’s also what she knows she can’t be without.

So she doesn’t say the word, because she’s not ready for it to be over.

Instead, she just pouts. “Yes.”

“That’s too bad. Have you cooled down yet?”

There isn’t a cool down. Not really. Not when her edges are back to back like this. But she isn’t sitting at the precipice any longer at least, and that’s enough. It won’t take long to get there, but she’s been this needy for days. Her cunt is practically a leaky faucet.

“Yes, sir.”

“Okay, then open your mouth so I can edge you again.”

“My mouth?”

“I need to spit, baby. One time for each of your two edges, and then once for you orgasm.”

“You didn’t…” She stops, a rattled breath escaping as his hand moves to cup her pussy. “You didn’t say that. Just once, that was it.”

“Oh no, baby. I never promised just once. You just didn’t negotiate very well.”

She gnashes her teeth together, the need and frustration and unfairness settling over her in an ugly red haze.

“Are you going to open your mouth, or am I putting you on no touch for the rest of the day.”

“Bell,” she says pitifully. He glares at her until she eeks out a _sorry, sir_ and opens her mouth to him again.

The second time is worse, if only because she knows what’s coming. But it’s also better, because her mind is so melted by days of lost orgasms that she can’t help but crave his spit in her mouth if only it’ll bring her closer to pleasure.

He caresses her jaw with sweet, soft strokes before sending another wad of spit onto her tongue.

For a moment she understands his earlier words. It is a gift — something only she deserves to receive from him. Something special just between them.

She swallows it without breaking eye contact.

“So good for me, princess. I think you’ve earned that next edge.”

His fingers slip into her this time, and she’s so wet that it’s almost embarrassing, but he just forces them in quicker and quicker until obscene noises fill their quiet bedroom.

“So good, so good, _please—”_

“Just to the edge, baby. No further.”

“I need it.”

“No you don’t. Not this time. This time, you need to follow instructions.”

She grunts, rolling her hips against his hand.

“So close, I’m—” He rips his hand away again. “Fuck. _Fuck,_ I hate you.”

“No you don’t.”

“Yes I do.”

He shrugs. “Alright, I can always make this worse.”

Her body — hot and flushed and unbelievably needy — goes cold, the chill of his words passing through her.

“No, wait.”

He nudges her shoulder. “Kneel, princess.”

She peels herself away from him warily, moving to kneel on the bed with her legs spread wide, palms facing up on her thighs. Usually when she’s like this, he’s standing tall above her until she has to crane her neck to see him, but today he stays sitting at eye level.

He brushes a sweaty lock of hair back behind her ear.

“You still want to come?”

“Yes please, sir. I’m sorry. I’ll be good.”

“Beg for my spit.”

She looks at him in confusion, spluttering out a series of noises that don’t amount to a single real word.

“I gave you the first two for free, but this time you have to ask nicely if you want my spit in your mouth. And you do want it, don’t you?”

“Yes, sir. I…”

“Like this, baby: _please spit in my whore mouth, sir._ Hm? Now you try?”

“Please… please spit in my whore mouth, sir.” Then, without prompting, she tacks on, “Please. I need it.”

Between her spread legs, her cunt pulses around nothing.

“How badly do you need it?”

“So badly, sir. I’m desperate for your spit.”

“Good girl. Now stick out your tongue and keep your mouth open. Don’t swallow until I say.”

He tips her head back, leaning over her to spit in her mouth once, twice, three times. She holds it in her open mouth as she waits for his signal.

Two of his thick fingers slide down her tongue, pumping in and out of her mouth without getting too close to her gag reflex.

“Mm, that’s so good, baby. Might have to start helping you get this hole wet before I fuck your face, hm? Wouldn’t that be nice of me?”

Unable to speak, she only nods. It is nice. Bellamy is always nice, always thinking of her.

“Okay, you can swallow now. That’s a good girl.”

She does as he says, feeling as their joint saliva disappears down her throat.

“Now come here,” he says, beaconing her towards his lap. She crawls over eagerly, wondering if he’s going to let her ride him. It might be nicer that way — she’ll be able to set the pace so she doesn’t cum too quickly.

She stares wantonly down at where his cock presses against the rough denim of his jeans. Her finger runs along the outline absentmindedly, but he draws her hand away.

“Alright, baby. Your first orgasm in a week, after forty hard edges. You must be so sensitive.”

She nods, desperately needing to speed this along.

He guides her over him until she’s straddling a single sturdy thigh. “Okay, take what you need.”

Her hands race back towards his zipper, but he lets out a warning sound. 

“No, sweetheart. No cock, no hands. Just hump against my thigh until you lose control.”

“Wait, but—”

“I’m giving you a better reason to hate me, princess.”

“No, please, I’m sorry!” She says, ready to beg for something better than this. “I don’t hate you. Please, I love you. I love your torture. I love edging for you until I’m constantly horny — until all I can think about is your cock. I’m your desperate little cunt, sir.”

“I know, baby. And you’re so good for me. But if you want your orgasm, you’ll have to hump my leg. That’s the deal.”

She closes her eyes, bemoaning his wonderfully fucked up mind. She feels like a dog humping anything in sight, but she needs this orgasm more than she needs her pride. He’ll always find a new way to chip away at it anyhow.

Slowly, she starts rolling her hips.

“Does that feel good?” He asks, voice sickly sweet. Like he doesn’t know how evil this is.

She shakes her head frantically, but her hips never stop their rhythm. “No, no, please…”

“Don’t lie — I can see that you’re enjoying it. So tell me again, does it feel good?”

His jeans are rough against her oversensitized clit, and it’s simultaneously painful and amazing. She needs to come above anything else. She wants his cock, but she needs this orgasm.

“Yes,” she cries, the word ripping itself free from her chest. “Yes, it’s so good.”

His hands move to her hips, guiding her against him faster and faster. She pants out uneven breaths, circling her arms around his shoulders to hold herself up. 

“Good. Take what you earned, darling.”

She barely hears his words, head already lost in the fog of her lust. His leg shifts underneath her, and when she tips her body slightly to one side, she can just catch the inseam of his pants against her clit.

“Fuck! Fuck.”

There are trails of her arousal lining his leg, but she doesn’t care. Doesn’t care that it’s embarrassing. Doesn’t care that she’s nakedly humping her fully clothed boyfriend. Doesn’t care that she’ll remember this moment when she puts them in the wash later, blushing and aroused at the memory.

She doesn’t care because each time her clit jerks against the stitching, she sees stars. Short, shallow hip rolls keep her from any other thought until a pained shutter releases in her body.

“I’m—” she gasps out, but then she starts shaking so hard that she can’t even cry out. Her empty cunt comes around nothing, but it still takes her breath away.

She buries her head in his shoulder, aftershocks licking through her. The inferno isn’t gone, only reduced to a simmer, but she’s suddenly exhausted.

“That was beautiful, Clarke. You’re amazing.”

He rubs her back, up and down and up and down, the feeling spreading a sense of calm through her that she hasn’t felt since before she’d started watching porn this morning.

Or maybe she hasn’t felt it since that first edge seven days before. 

“Bell,” she groans, and he moves to brush his hand through her hair. She nuzzles further into his neck.

“How do you feel? Was the spitting too much?”

“Mm… the spitting was fine. Probably enjoyed it too much. Now ‘m sleepy. And still horny. Was that really my only orgasm?”

She’s terrified it’ll be another week of edges before he decides she deserves another, but he just laughs.

“No, I think we can work something out.”

He leans back against the pillows, cradling her against his body until the tension she’s holding seems to ebb away. 

“Do you need anything? Food? Water?” He pulls a blanket about around her naked body, and she snuggles into the warmth.

“No, I’m okay. I want to stay right here.”

“Okay, princess. Let’s relax.”

She hums, already half asleep against him.

“And then you can tell me about those other orgasms,” she whispers, not wanting to forget.

She can feel a laugh rumble through his chest.

“I’ll give you so many you’ll regret asking for more.”

She smiles into his skin. “Good.”

**Author's Note:**

> People who comment on porn are my heroes
> 
> Follow my twitter @goddesschained


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